


Once Upon A Time...

by BreakfastTea



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Cid is grumpy, Clarus lectures Regis, Cor is cocky, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, OG chocobros, Weskham keeps his cool, storytime with Regis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 01:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakfastTea/pseuds/BreakfastTea
Summary: When Noctis worries about his scar, Regis tells him the tale of how he earned a nasty scar of his own.





	Once Upon A Time...

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, welcome, to Fanfic Friday #14! This is for LoveFiction99. Thank you so much for all your support. I really hope you enjoy your request! :D

It was a rare, quiet weekend. The sun shone over Insomnia, and for once not a single pressing engagement demanded Regis’ immediate attention. Or, rather, no matters of state demanded his attention. No, today he intended to spend the afternoon with Noctis, once his son completed his daily physio regime.

But there was a problem. When Regis’ phone had chimed with a message from Noctis’ physiotherapist, Regis had abandoned his coffee and his parlour and rushed to find his son in the Citadel’s pool. He found the young physiotherapist waiting outside the small changing room. “What’s happened?”

The young man bowed. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but he simply doesn’t want me to help today.” He went on to explain why wanted Noctis to undergo some therapy in the pool. It would take the weight off muscles that needed a rest while still giving him the chance to keep moving, keep regaining his lost strength. “My sincerest apologies if I’ve caused offence.”

“It’s alright,” Regis said. “I’ll speak with him and see if we can get to the bottom of this.”

Regis found Noctis curled up on the bench in the changing rooms, clothes very firmly in place. It was strange, because he’d once loved swimming. Regis had plenty of memories of people struggling to get Noctis out of the Citadel’s pool and into bed.

Regis sat next to Noctis on the small changing area’s bench. “Why don’t you want to swim?”

Noctis pulled his good leg to his chest, hiding his face in his arms.

“Talk to me,” Regis said, keeping his voice soft. “Why don’t you want to swim? You know it’s to help you feel better and regain your strength.”

Noctis’ answer came back muffled. “Don’t want anyone to see.”

Ah. Now Regis understood. “No one will think any differently of you. Besides, a scar is nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, you can swim in a t-shirt if you’d prefer.”

Noctis shook his head. “It’s ugly. People stare. The t-shirt won’t cover it.”

“People will always stare at you,” Regis said. “You can’t let the scar ruin your day. You haven’t had the chance to swim in a while. Come now, let’s get you undressed so you can finish your physio. It’s a beautiful day. I thought you might like to go for a picnic with me.”

"You don’t understand,” Noctis said, voice miserable. “You don't have any scars.” 

"Oh, yes, I do!" Regis said with mock affront. "And it's a big one!"

Noctis wasn't appeased or impressed. "Not as big as mine."

Regis couldn't argue with that, for the scar he had was smaller. Although it wasn't exactly insignificant either. And it definitely wasn't pretty. Probably not something a modern king should have, but war was war. People got hurt. Regis hadn't told Noctis the story. Maybe today was a good day.

Standing, Regis began removing his garments. Noctis, face still tearstained, stared at him, clearly at a complete loss. 

"There." Regis presented the large scar marring his stomach. The thick line where the stitches had been remained ragged, the skin on top ghostly white and taut. "Go ahead. You can touch it."

Regis watched curiosity get the better of Noctis. His hand, cold and damp from his tears, traced over the scar. "What happened?"

"Let's just say I learned the hard way not to put myself between a friend and a blade." Regis' memory of what came after remained hazy, but he'd seen that Reaper swinging out to kill Clarus and Cor, warping to protect him. 

"Clarus didn’t see it?" Noctis asked. 

"It came from behind. Besides, there isn't a lot he can do when I warp. And best not mention this to him. He doesn't like to talk about it." That was a lesson Noctis' own Shield would have to learn. Not today though. Perhaps Noctis was still too young to burden with the guilt he was sure to inflict on Gladio one day, no matter how hard Gladio trained. "Besides, all's well that ends well. And here I am, alive and with a scar to remind me I am stronger than I think."

Noctis sat up a little straighter. A familiar glint shone in his eyes, the one he always had when he longed to hear a blood-thirstier story. "Tell me what happened." 

Regis sighed. He had walked right into this...

"Please?" Noctis asked. He swung his good leg back and forth, staring at his toes. "I - I promise I'll get in the pool if you do."

"Alright," Regis said. “You have yourself a deal.”

Noctis smiled, snuggling into Regis' side. “So, what happened?”

Regis really hoped he wouldn't regret telling this story. "Once upon a time..."

* * *

They were on their way to Accordo via Caem where the Royal Vessel waited. The journey from Insomnia hadn't been too bad, all things considered, but something seemed to be in the air today. The skies above were not promising, the heavy clouds exceedingly threatening. Night fell already, making them all wary of incoming daemons.

"We should find shelter at a haven," Clarus said. “Caem will have to wait until tomorrow.”

"There's one not far away at Malmalan Thicket," Weskham said. He and Cid stared at the map they'd used to guide them across the continent. "Probably best to stop there for the night and resume our journey tomorrow."

Regis sighed. He didn't want to delay again after the whole car debacle, but at the same time he knew better than to take unnecessary risks. Getting themselves killed in an attack wouldn’t help the war effort at all. "Alright," he said. "We'll make camp."

“A night under the stars sounds wonderful,” Clarus said.

“There’s something wrong with you,” Cor muttered.

Stifling a snort of laughter, Regis parked the car in the small clearing, helped the others gather their gear, and started on the path to the haven.

Which was right when the Reapers came out of nowhere and attacked them.

Cor, being the youngest and sharpest of them all, parried a blow that would've decapitated him. Regis briefly marvelled at his talent, before dumping his armful of camping gear and summoning his weapon to avoid losing his own head.

"Stay together!" Clarus ordered. "If they pick us off, they'll be more likely to go for a Sudden Death spell."

"Tch, don't we have a magic wielder of our own?" Cid grumped. 

Regis rolled his eyes. The man was never happy. "Fine, fall back!" He didn't really want to accidentally set his friends on fire. His control was fine with low level spells, but the second he got to a Firaga, all hell broke loose. Father wasn't exactly impressed with his lack of finesse. And this trip to Accordo had limited the amount of time he had to practice control. Although the skirmishes they found themselves in certainly gave him ample opportunity to use his magic, whether it be destructive or curative.

The others slid behind him. Regis risked a Firaga. They needed these Reapers _gone._ Cid swore when the magic engulfed the daemons, the heat scalding their skin too. No way could Regis conjure a barrier _and_ control Firaga. Not yet anyway. He was working on it.

Maybe he’d skipped out of one too many training sessions… He solemnly swore to make up for it once this trip was over.

The magic cleared. The daemons were gone.

“Are you alright?” Clarus asked.

“Fine,” Regis replied, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He tried to take a step, only for his legs to wobble beneath him. “Ah.”

Weskham stepped up, bracing Regis. “Perhaps His Highness overdid it,” he said. “Try to remember we are here to help.”

Regis chuckled, clinging onto Weskham’s arm to stay upright. “Cid’s the one who wanted magic.”

“Not like that!” Cid said. He rolled his eyes. “Overdoing it as always.”

“Sorry, old man,” Regis muttered. Did Cid have to be so hard to please all the damn time?

“Cor, come with me,” Clarus said. “Let’s scout ahead, make sure our path is clear.”

“Sir,” Cor said.

Clarus turned to Weskham and Cid. “Stay close to him. Don’t let him do anything foolish.”

“Your lack of faith wounds me,” Regis declared, holding a hand to his chest.

That was when the weather decided things were too easy for them and rain suddenly pelted them, thunder rolling around. Regis sighed. Camping in the rain was a truly grim experience. He’d much rather spend the night in at Caem, but it was too much of a risk. They’d made the right decision when they’d stopped near a haven.

At least, that was what Regis thought right up until the moment he saw another Reaper melting out of the shadows directly behind Clarus and Cor.

Regis didn’t even think about shouting a warning. Instinct struck hard, screaming at him to move, move now! He launched himself into a warp, planning to shield Clarus and Cor.

Except warping after Firaga left him too close to Stasis. He couldn’t cast a barrier. Regis didn’t have time to summon a blade and block the Reaper’s swing either. Instead, it cut right through his side, blood exploding everywhere.

Shouts went out. Things were hazy after that. Regis must’ve passed out, because he came to over someone’s shoulder – whose he wasn’t sure – and the Reaper was nowhere to be seen. Something felt wrong. On his side. Damp and hot. Something jerked beneath him and he cried out, pain tearing through him.

“Hold on, Regis.” It was Weskham. He sounded a little more urgent than Regis was used to. “We’re almost –”

Regis faded out again.

He came to in agony, his ears full of his own cries and screams. Hands pressed hard against his side. He bucked against them, scrabbling to free himself, but he didn’t have the strength. Worse, other hands grabbed him, pinning him down. Regis couldn’t make out their faces; everything was too blurry.

“Work faster, Cid!” Clarus bellowed.

“I am!” Cid shouted back. “Keep him still or he’ll rip the stitches before I finish and we’ll have to start all over again.”

Stiches? Why stitches? “S-stop!” Didn’t Regis have magic? He could cast Cure, right? Except magic slipped through his fingers, the pain too much to concentrate through. If they would just get off him for a few seconds, maybe he could –

“Regis. Regis! Don’t move,” Clarus said. “Cid’s got to finish the stitches before you bleed out.”

“It hurts,” Regis muttered.

“Then let this be a lesson to you,” Cid said from nearby. “Don’t go warping yourself into trouble again.”

The pain ratcheted up. Regis cried out. Everything fizzled before him.

Black.

When he came to again, it was to the sight of sunlight shining through the tent flap. No one else was with him, but he could hear voices nearby. A strange, metallic smell floated through the air. Blood. A lot of it. What had happened? Pain rumbled in his side, threatening worse to come if he so much as blinked too hard. His memory slowly emerged from the fog in his head.

Reapers.

Were the others alright? He tried to push himself upright, but the pain was too great. He cried out, the sound hoarse. He swallowed hard. Why was his throat so sore? Footsteps came running and the tent’s flap opened wide, four worried faces staring in at him. Yes, even Cid looked concerned. It must’ve been serious.

“At last,” Clarus said. “You’re awake.” He looked paler and more strained than Regis could ever remember. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” Regis grunted.

Weskham pushed his way in, grabbed a bottle of water, and held it out to Regis. “You need to rehydrate,” he said. “You lost a lot of blood last night.”

Regis took the bottle and drained it within minutes. He came up for air, shifting against the renewed pain in his stomach. “Are you all alright?” he asked.

“Not a scratch on any of us, thanks to you,” Clarus said. “You seem to have forgotten which one of us is the Shield.”

Cor bowed. “Forgive my oversight in not spotting that Reaper, Your Highness. It won’t happen again.”

Regis held up a hand. “It wasn’t anybody’s fault. That Reaper came out of nowhere and I reacted.”

The others didn’t relax.

“Do you feel well enough to cast Cure on yourself?” Clarus asked. “It will help the wound.”

Regis closed his eyes. The Crystal’s magic was always within reach, but his own focus was far too scattered right now. He sighed. “Not yet.”

“Perhaps painkillers will suffice for now,” Weskham said.

Regis nodded, grateful for the other man’s calm practicality. Somehow, he always kept his cool. Weskham helped him down a few pills. Regis reluctantly allowed himself to be ushered back into his sleeping bag.

“We need to carry on,” Regis insisted, even as weariness tugged at his consciousness. “We must reach Caem as soon as possible.”

“It’s very early in the morning,” Clarus said. “We’ll reassess you later and see if you can make the trip.”

“Clarus,” Regis said, knowing he couldn’t stay awake for much longer.

“Yes?”

“Don’t tell my father about this.”

Clarus cleared his throat. “I assure you, we’re all sworn to secrecy.”

* * *

The next time Regis awoke, he knew he needed the bathroom and waiting wasn’t an option. He carefully rolled onto his good side, making it halfway to sitting before the pain in his bad side overrode the painkillers.

He grunted, swallowing his pride. “Could I get a little help?”

It was Cid who came in and wasted no time lifting Regis to his feet and guiding him to the edge of the haven. He didn’t even avert his eyes as Regis relieved himself.

“What? You think I’ve never seen a dick before?” Cid shot back.

Regis, cheeks bright red, refused to make eye-contact.

Cid burst out into laughter. He patted Regis on the back. “You royals. So modest. What’re you gonna do the first time you spend a night with a woman?”

Actually, Regis wanted the ground to open up and swallow him because he was _not_ having this conversation right now. Instead, he zipped himself back up and reluctantly allowed Cid to help him to a chair. Sitting upright was far from comfortable, but they couldn’t keep delaying. They had to get to Accordo. The trade deal had to be made as soon as possible.

Clarus looked at him. “You should probably return to the tent.”

Hand raised, Regis stopped Clarus and the others from protesting. Closing his eyes, Regis reached out to his magic again. He pulled on his connection to the Crystal, taking its magic and forming it into a Cure spell. It was tricky, the pain breaking through his concentration, but he managed a weak casting. It took some of the pain away, and he felt a twitch in his side where the stab wound healed. Letting out a breath, he opened his eyes. His four friends stared back at him. “Getting there,” he said. He pushed himself up. Clarus grabbed him. “I won’t fall,” Regis said, sounding more confident than he really felt. “We should get to the car.”

“You can rest more comfortably at Caem,” Clarus said.

Regis intended to set sail today, but he could see the others were all still rattled. Fine. A day’s delay wouldn’t be too bad. Besides, the more rest he got now, the stronger he would become. He needed that strength in order to wield his magic effectively. Cure magic wouldn’t heal him completely – it was always more effective immediately after an injury – but it would keep him mobile. All he’d have to do was find a way to explain to his father why there’d had to delay their departure an extra day.

“We’ll tell your father the weather was simply too severe,” Clarus said as he and the others slowly packed away their camping gear. “He may want us in Accordo, but I doubt he would want us to set sail in dangerous conditions.”

“Yeah, I can tell your old man we had some mechanical issues too if he doesn’t believe us,” Cid added.

“Thank you,” Regis said. He didn’t want Father to worry, and he also didn’t want to incur a lecture. This was one of the most important duties ever bestowed upon him. Regis didn’t want to let him or the kingdom down. If only he’d used Fira rather than Firaga. He would’ve been able to block that Reaper with a barrier…

It was a painful way to learn a hard lesson.

By the time they returned to the car, the weather had declined again, the rain picking up and the wind whirling around them. Regis settled himself in the front passenger seat, that being his best option. He tilted it back a little, mindful that he’d be crushing poor Cor if he went back too far.

“Wake me up when we get to Caem,” Regis said, closing his eyes.

He didn’t expect to sleep, but the painkillers and the lingering exhaustion did their job. It was Weskham who shook him awake, calling out over the sound of rain pummelling the car’s roof.

“Don’t worry,” Weskham said with a smile. “We have an umbrella.”

This time, the others stayed close, moving at Regis’ limping pace. He’d never been so grateful for rain and wind in his life. The thought of boarding the ship made him queasy. He focused on a much closer goal; getting to Caem and falling into the nearest bed. Then he could sleep, regain some strength, and cast a proper Cure on himself.

It took nearly twenty minutes to walk up the hill to the house. No one commented, and Regis gratefully accepted Clarus’ help when his own legs threatened to give out. Regis pressed a hand to his wound, unable to hold back a hiss of pain. He felt Clarus tense. He looked to his Shield. “I sincerely hope you’re not blaming yourself.”

Clarus huffed. “You know that I am.”

“It was my choice,” Regis said. “You can’t protect me from every idiotic move I make.”

Clarus snorted. “That’s true.”

“I’m going to be fine,” Regis said. He looked up, the house finally in sight. Thank goodness. He could practically hear the bed singing to him. “Explain this to Cor, too.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Clarus muttered.

Ten minutes later, Regis was in bed. He listened to the others pottering around the house, and when Weskham came in with water and more meds, Regis gratefully accepted them.

Regis dropped off into sleep. When he woke up later, he heard the familiar sound of laughter. He listened to what sounded like a friendly game of poker, one Cor was clearly winning. Regis took stock of his wound, lifting his shirt to take it in. Ugly, jagged, and held together with stitches. Heat flushed through him, head spinning. He dropped the shirt, swallowing hard before he could throw up. It was certainly ugly, but he genuinely felt stronger. He could use Cure now. Magic gathered around his fingertips. He directed it over the wound, the pain washing away. By the time he’d finished, Regis felt significantly better. He took another peek at the wound. It was still nasty, and it would leave a nasty scar, but the deeper damage had healed. The stitches would have to be cut out once the surface injury healed, but that was a problem for another day. Right now, Regis needed something to eat, something to drink, and a chance to see Cor wipe the floor with the others.

* * *

Noctis stared up at him. “Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think Cor will teach me how to play poker?”

Regis laughed. That was what Noctis took away from the story? He ruffled his son’s hair. “Perhaps another day. Now, you’ve had your story. Don’t you owe me something now?”

Noctis nodded. “Okay.”

Five minutes later, watching Noctis in the pool with his physiotherapist, a small smile on his face, Regis decided sharing that story was well worth it. Anything to see Noctis happy again.

Just so long as he never picked up Cor’s poker face. The man was a true card shark.

**Author's Note:**

> See you all next week! Until then, don't forget I have a bunch of [minifics](https://breakfastteatime.tumblr.com/post/185752508572/ffxv-tumblr-fic-masterlist) over on Tumblr ^_^


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